arya
I often wonder what prompted Camus to write this novel. Never have I read something that conveys the protagonist’s emotional detachment so perfectly. The first half feels entirely black and white, almost devoid of feeling, until the final part—perfection—where something small is revealed; just a speck of emotion, only to be swallowed once again by the absurd. This captures absurdism in its purest form, revealing a human tendency to impose meaning where Meursault himself refuses to seek it.
I often wonder what prompted Camus to write this novel. Never have I read something that conveys the protagonist’s emotional detachment so perfectly. The first half feels entirely black and white, almost devoid of feeling, until the final part—perfection—where something small is revealed; just a speck of emotion, only to be swallowed once again by the absurd. This captures absurdism in its purest form, revealing a human tendency to impose meaning where Meursault himself refuses to seek it.